


covering and protecting

by grace



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace/pseuds/grace
Summary: Sad bachelor party hookups. Lots of multi-directional pining. Please be chill and respectful and do not in any way bring to the attention of the people named!!





	covering and protecting

The bar the first night in New Orleans is a gauntlet of awkward unfunny small talk with Favs’ friends from home and college. Lovett’s feeling self-conscious and twitchy and tired and having trouble resisting interrupting people or just straight up ignoring them, but nobody really laughs at any of Lovett’s jokes or engages much with him anyway, so it doesn’t really matter that he’s being rude. He ploughs through, heading straight for Tommy when he sees him at the bar.

“Hey Lovett,” says Tommy. 

Tommy’s wearing his nice plaid shirt and he looks relaxed, more relaxed than Lovett has seen him in months, he realizes suddenly. Less drawn and pale. His usual hyper-corrected work mode posture that Lovett somehow got used to seeing him in has loosened up some and he’s letting himself sprawl a little. His eyes crinkle up at the corners when he looks at Lovett. He must have had a drink or two already. Lovett yearns to catch up.

“Yes, Thomas?” prompts Lovett, sitting down on the bar stool next to him and propping his chin on his fist.

Tommy leans in, eyes warm. “I’m fucking glad you’re here.” 

“Aww, you were struggling socially without me.” He smiles back at Tommy, holding his gaze a little too long, deliberately. “Look at your nice plaid shirt. So handsome, our Tommy.”

“Thanks,”’ says Tommy, smiling. He tilts his head a little to the side and smoothly shifts slightly closer to Lovett along the bar. “You think I look handsome tonight, Lovett?”

“Fuck you,” Lovett fires back reflexively. “Don’t terrorize me. God. I’m emotionally vulnerable right now, you have no idea. What are you drinking?”

Tommy looks down at his glass, tilts it slightly and raises it to Lovett in a salute. “Quinoa whiskey.”

“Quinoa whiskey?”

“That’s what I’m told.” Tommy shrugs, smiles, takes a sip. His sleeves are rolled up and the warm light off the bar is glowing off all the fine gold hairs on his forearms, his fucking dumbass MVMT watch that he wears with pride. His fucking hands, holding the glass loosely. Fuck. The strong veins in his arms. 

Lovett swallows and says lightly, “You truly are yuppie trash, Vietor.”

Tommy shrugs, smiles down at his glass. “Want to try it?” he offers.

“No, I want you to buy me a real drink,” says Lovett. “My gayness is being ruthlessly drained from me by this milieu and I need to level back up with the fruitiest drink imaginable.”

Tommy laughs and buys him a drink. They sit and drink and mock Favs’ friends from college – or Lovett mocks, reflexively and viciously, and Tommy laughs at him, long and warm and open and resonant, giving Lovett his unbelievably fond, you fucking monster look. Lovett keeps facing forward, working on his drink, letting himself feel a little cheered up as always by making Tommy laugh helplessly.

After Tommy finishes that quinoa whiskey and starts another one, his face is a little flushed. He’s turned to fully face Lovett now, both his feet resting on the rungs of Lovett’s barstool. He’s gently turning his half empty glass in circles on the table and his eyes are fixed on Lovett. 

He’s gazing at Lovett with the same warm but formal attentiveness that he gives Lovett whenever he is Pontificating, but Lovett has given up on trying to make any pithy remarks and is just kind of drooping in his chair, a depressed sweaty tired bitter gay mess.

“What?” Lovett demands rudely.

Tommy shakes his head a little, like he’s waking himself up from a reverie. “Sorry, Lovett,” he says. His voice does the thing where it cracks a little bit when he speaks low enough. When he gets tipsy his voice gets so warm and slow and deep. It’s very sexy, which sucks for Lovett.

“How you feeling?” Tommy leans in a little closer, his eyes bright. “Wanna ditch this milieu?”

“God yes,” says Lovett, ducking Tommy’s gaze.

They finish their drinks and when Tommy stands up to close out his tab, his rests his hand lightly for a second on the small of Lovett’s back. It feels like way too much to handle right now – Tommy’s giant fucking handspan and just Lovett’s thin t-shirt between his skin and Tommy’s touch. So Lovett moves away from the touch – not in like a dramatic way, but it’s obvious, and he glances over in time to see something change a little in Tommy’s face in reaction. Lovett’s not sure what. But Tommy shifts back a little after that - opens back up the space between them as subtly as he had closed it earlier.

They find Favs to say goodnight. He’s in a little raucous half circle of other, less handsome men who are also all bronzed up and have their top two shirt buttons undone. Lovett hangs back and lets Tommy clap Favs’ shoulder, lean in and say something in his ear. Tommy can navigate this world just fine, so Lovett checks his phone and lets him do it. Favs still shoulders his way over through his bros to give Lovett a goodnight hug, but Tommy’s already heading for the door so it’s easy for Lovett to extricate himself quickly and follow.

They walk around aimlessly for a little while. It’s so warm and in such a nice way, so different from LA. They get ice cream – Tommy gets fucking artisanal burnt caramel lavender bullshit and Lovett teases him about this mercilessly, until Tommy’s face is all pink and he’s laughing too hard to get it together enough to take a bite.

Lovett gets a double scoop vanilla cone which starts uncontrollably melting almost immediately, so he starts complaining about that. They stop walking to eat, Lovett standing against a wall, the brick warm against his back, and Tommy facing him. 

Tommy finishes his sensible single scoop cup of ice cream first, and he’s not a fucking mess like Lovett is, with melting ice cream dripping down his hand.

“I’ll help you out with that,” Tommy says nicely.

“Oh you will, will you -” says Lovett, but Tommy’s already leaning in and taking a lick of Lovett’s ice cream cone. Really going for it, his tongue curling. Fuck. With Tommy leaning in this close Lovett can smell him – his fucking cologne and a little bit of sweat and whiskey. Jesus. Lovett presses his back hard against the wall, tries to ground himself. 

Tommy leans back, looking shyly pleased, licking a little bit of ice cream from the corner of his lip.

“Well fuck this,” says Lovett, annoyed that his voice is getting higher real fast and without his permission. “You got your WASPy cooties all over it, I’m done now.”

“Oh, sorry,” says Tommy. His eyes are crinkling and he’s looking down at Lovett with so much fucking – whatever it is. Whatever it is. Lovett just can’t maintain feeling sad and alone and empty right at this second, try as hard as he might. “I got my cooties all over it, huh?”

Tommy’s doing it again, subtly closing the space between them. His hands are in his jeans pockets. Lovett can see the freckles on his neck, his fucking translucent eyelashes. 

“This is just a mess now, I gotta get rid of this,” says Lovett abruptly, pushing away from the wall. He shoves past Tommy so fast his shoulder collides with Tommy’s chest. There’s no way Lovett could ever move Tommy even an inch if he was trying not to be moved, but he melts backward immediately just the same. 

Lovett finds a trash can and drops the remainder of his cone in, tries to gather his thoughts and his bumping heart.

Behind him Tommy says lightly, “Hey, wanna go ahead and get a Lyft back? I’m kinda done for the night I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” snaps Lovett, not caring if his tone is unreasonably harsh.

Tommy chats politely with the Lyft driver on the way back to the hotel. Tommy seems so fucking huge in the backseat, his long legs and his big hands resting on his knees. Lovett pulls one foot up on the seat and hunches in over his knee, biting the side of his thumbnail.

Favs keeps messaging them drunk happy nonsense and they joke a little about it on the elevator ride up to their rooms, and the mood feels lighter. Tommy’s looking at Lovett steadily, hands in his pockets. 

Lovett feels weary and sweaty and sticky and gross, but when Tommy asks, “Want a drink?” he still shrugs and follows Tommy into his room. He’s not ready to go to his own room yet and be alone. No Pundit, just the rat wheel of his own sad thoughts –about Favs’ wedding, and about time, and about regrets. 

Tommy has an emergency bottle of Knob Creek in his luggage. He pours Lovett a shot in a paper cup from the hotel bathroom and Lovett drinks it, making an exaggerated grossed out face, and flops on his back on Tommy’s bed. 

Tommy sits on the edge of the bed beside him, drinks some more whiskey himself, without making a face.

“Listen, Tommy,” says Lovett finally. “I get that you’re trying to make me feel better, and I really do appreciate it, but you don’t have to spend the whole weekend like, babysitting me,” 

He sees Tommy’s shoulders tense a little. He can only see the side of Tommy’s face though, and it’s unreadable.

“Good, because I don’t want to babysit you,” says Tommy finally. 

His soft low voice is getting a little raspy this late in the night and it sends a shiver up Lovett’s spine that he can’t help. He can’t help any of his bodily reactions to Tommy, and they only seem to increase in intensity over time, not fade, and it’s not fucking fair. Good thing it’s only physical reactions. A sad gay muppet such as Lovett should only have to endure unrequited romantic feelings for one hot, unavailable heterosexual friend at a time. 

Lovett rolls dramatically off the bed. “Well, I’ll let you do your fucking monastic chanting bedtime routine I guess,” he says, stumbling a little on his way to the door. 

He doesn’t look back but he can hear Tommy standing up from the bed and following him over, and when Lovett half turns back, hand on the door, a goodnight joke half ready on his tongue, Tommy is right there – right. there. Tall and warm, his gaze serious but the sides of his eyes still crinkling a little as he looks down at Lovett. 

He puts his hand on Lovett’s wrist, very gently. He tugs Lovett’s hand off the doorknob and Lovett feels himself kind of melt breathlessly and ridiculously back against the door, without any conscious choice on his part. Tommy gently touches the side of Lovett’s face and his neck, one long thumb brushing slowly across his jaw. 

It’s impossible to mistake or confuse what this is now. Tommy’s looking down at Lovett and he wants to kiss him. His face is flushed and his eyelids are a little heavy and fuck – this is happening. 

“I’m really sad right now,” says Lovett, in a small voice. He didn’t mean to say that.

Tommy nods and swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“And you’re really sexy,” Lovett continues, reaching up to touch Tommy’s hand where it’s cradling the side of Lovett’s face.

Tommy smiles a little smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” says Lovett. “You maybe should think about it a little more. Not that I’m not, like, a fantastic fuck or whatever– it’s just probably not really worth it in the long run.”

“I’m not thinking about the long run,” says Tommy. He sounds a little defensive, maybe. A little nervous.

Right. Lovett feels that, a wry twist in his gut. Why not, Tommy must be thinking, a consequence-less fuck. Maybe he isn’t just offering this in a last-ditch attempt to make Lovett not feel worthless. That would be kind of bizarre after all. Maybe he just wants to have fun this weekend and he doesn’t feel like finding someone. That makes sense.

Lovett turns his head before he loses his nerve and presses his mouth quickly to the palm of Tommy’s hand, closes his eyes. He feels as much as hears Tommy’s sharp intake of breath. And then Tommy’s tilting Lovett’s chin up with his thumb and his other hand is firm on Lovett’s hip and Tommy’s mouth is on his and - fuck. Tommy is a very good kisser. He’s not hesitant or curious at all. 

Lovett has a few frantic seconds to reconsider a lot of things he’s always assumed about Tommy and then one of Tommy’s giant hands is sliding up his t-shirt and Tommy’s thigh is pressing between his and Lovett is so, so turned on. It’s like a merciful wave of amnesia, flooding over him. All he can feel is this. Tommy pulling back and then kissing him again, pulling back, sliding his hand around to the small of Lovett’s back and bringing him closer to Tommy’s big solid body. He grabs the back of Lovett’s thighs and lifts him up, pushes him higher up against the door so that Tommy doesn’t have to lean down to kiss Lovett. He keeps kissing him, until Lovett is a fucking mess, making noises he can’t help. 

His arms are around Tommy’s neck and he can feel the muscles in Tommy’s shoulders flex but it doesn’t seem to be a fucking problem for him to keep holding Lovett up against the door indefinitely. Lovett doesn’t usually sleep with guys with Tommy’s body type, he isn’t usually even very attracted to them but fuck, this is hot, this is amazing.

“Wait,” says Lovett finally, and it comes out in a whine, breathless. “Tommy--”

Tommy stops kissing him immediately, drawing in breath in a harsh rasp. He shifts like he’s about to set Lovett down and Lovett tightens his arms around Tommy’s neck reflexively. 

“Tommy,” he says, and his voice is still a stupid sounding breathless whine but he can’t help it. “I wanna fucking see you.”

Tommy smiles a shy pleased smile and it’s like his fucking face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Well, yeah,” says Lovett. “Duh.” He can’t catch his breath and his body and his brain are buzzing.

Tommy kisses him again, slow and dirty, and nuzzles his face against the side of Lovett’s neck. “What do – what do you want to see?” he murmurs, his warm breath and low voice vibrating against the sensitive skin beneath Lovett’s ear and making Lovett shake so hard. 

Lovett’s running his fingers through the ruffled hair on the back of Tommy’s neck again and again. It’s soft and Lovett realizes he’s been wanting to do this for a long time, just pet Tommy like a big dog. He turns his head to press a kiss to Tommy’s temple, the side of his jaw – god, his fucking freckles, his fucking flushed skin. “Can I suck you off?” he whispers.

“If that’s what you want to do,” says Tommy. “You can do whatever you want, Lovett.”

“God, I wish that was true,” says Lovett. “So many things would change in this country. I’d impeach Trump. I’d make bachelor parties illegal. You’d wear better shoes when you’re on national television.”

Tommy laughs and Lovett can feel it in his body and it’s reassuring. This isn’t very different from normal, after all.

Tommy sits on the edge of the bed and Lovett stands between Tommy’s knees and holds Tommy’s face in his hands and kisses him. This is a new kind of warm pleasant thrill – feeling Tommy’s strong fast heartbeat in his throat, Tommy’s hands on the back of Lovett’s thighs keeping him close. He looks down at Tommy’s face, his eyelashes. God Tommy is beautiful. In such a totally different way from Favs. 

Eventually, Lovett unbuttons Tommy’s jeans but then goes right back to kissing him, slow and easy. Tommy makes a little scolding sound, grabs Lovett’s hand like he’s going to pull it back down to his lap, but then immediately lets go and smiles to show it’s just a joke.

“You’re such a polite hook-up, Vietor,” says Lovett.

“Thanks,” says Tommy. “Are you surprised?” He’s looking up at Lovett, eyes bright.

Lovett shrugs. He puts his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and climbs up on the bed to settle in Tommy’s lap, his knees on either side of Tommy’s hips. “I thought you’d be kind of a demanding jerk, to be honest. I thought you’d have notes.”

“You’ve thought about it, huh,” says Tommy. His hands are sliding up the back of Lovett’s thighs. “Can I touch your butt, Lovett?”

“Wow,” says Lovett, “Wow, Tommy.” 

Tommy laughs helplessly, face pink. Lovett kisses him again, deep. “So suave. You can touch my butt, Tommy,” he says. “You can touch anything you want.”

Lovett’s intending to keep this slow, but that starts to be difficult, with Tommy’s hands on his ass and his tongue in Lovett’s mouth. It feels like Tommy is waiting on him to kick it to the next level though, which is fine. Lovett’s had plenty of sex where the other guy was just kind of going along with it. That’s very workable.

He topples them back on the bed so that Tommy’s laying on his back and Lovett’s on top of him, and Tommy looks delighted by this. He rolls on his side and pulls Lovett closer so they’re kind of cuddling and kissing and it’s nice and sweet but Lovett is ready to get off. He pushes at Tommy’s chest.

“Hey,” he says. “Not to be a fucking freak, but I’ve wondered what your dick looks like for a while and I’m ready for the suspense to be over.”

Tommy laughs his startled flustered laugh. “You’ve seen my dick,” he says.

“Uh, no,” says Lovett. “I’d remember.”

“We’ve never like, pissed next to each other?”

“What world do you live in?” demands Lovett. “You think I can just look at other men’s dicks when they piss next to me? What do you think would happen to me if I did that?”

“Right, sure,” agrees Tommy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” says Lovett. “Just whip it out now and all is forgiven.”

Tommy laughs helplessly again and puts his hand over his face. “God, Lovett.”

Lovett wiggles obnoxiously up to him. “Gimme. Gimme gimme.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” says Tommy fondly, but’s unbuttoning his fucking plaid shirt with one hand and reaching over to tug at Lovett’s t-shirt with the other and Lovett doesn’t waste any more time getting both of them naked.

Tommy has a really nice dick. It’s really nice just like the rest of Tommy’s body and Lovett is into it. 

“I’m into it,” says Lovett, from between Tommy’s legs. 

Tommy’s running his hands through Lovett’s hair and over his shoulders and he looks so flushed and focused. Lovett likes all the golden reddish hairs on Tommy’s long thighs. He likes the small gasps Tommy makes and how deeply he’s breathing from his chest, like he’s trying not make any more noise than that as Lovett blows him. Lovett can feel his hands trembling where they are ever so gently touching Lovett’s hair and shoulders.

“You can be a little more demanding,” says Lovett, pushing his head back against Tommy’s hand.

“Fuck,” says Tommy. His voice is so low and ragged, it feels like Lovett can feel it vibrating through his body. 

He sets his teeth against Tommy’s thigh, just above the back of Tommy’s knee, to show he’s serious, and Tommy says, “Hey,” firmly, and guides Lovett’s mouth back to his dick. God, Tommy takes direction well. Lovett shivers and pushes his hips against the bed and gets back to work. 

When looks up he can see Tommy’s flushed face, his eyes closed, his pale eyelashes fluttering and his fucking ridiculous long strong neck arching. He says something but it’s too quiet for Lovett to hear.

“What?” asks Lovett, letting the head of Tommy’s nice pink dick rest against his lower lip, blowing air across it gently.

“Jesus,” says Tommy, squirming. “Fuck. You’re good at this, Lovett. Jesus Christ. Fuck.”

“Thanks, I know,” says Lovett smugly. 

After he makes Tommy come, Lovett won’t quit lightly sucking on the over-sensitive head of Tommy’s dick until Tommy loses patience and flips Lovett, pinning him and laughing. 

His face is so red and his eyes are so bright and he kisses Lovett long and deep like Lovett didn’t just have Tommy’s dick in his mouth, didn’t just swallow his come. 

He tucks his flushed face into the crook of Lovett’s neck and says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Lovett. Tommy lightly easily pinning Lovett’s arms above his head and nuzzling fondly into his neck is making Lovett’s stomach flip and twist in lots of fun weird ways. “Are you having a gay panic?”

“No, Lovett,” says Tommy, with such soft fond amusement.

“Good. Good to know I guess,” says Lovett. He nonchalantly tests Tommy’s loose grip on his forearms, and he can’t help the little stupid sound he makes when Tommy presses down just a little more to hold him still, and Lovett can’t do shit about it.

“I’m actually really strong,” Lovett says breathlessly. “For a person my size.”

“You’re really strong,” agrees Tommy. “You go to the gym a lot.” He’s running his hands up and down Lovett’s arms now, gently stroking, and he starts kissing Lovett’s neck in a way that just pulls noises effortlessly out of Lovett, like Tommy’s one of those magicians pulling out an endless string of ribbons. 

Lovett doesn’t really mean to or think about it, but he wraps his legs around Tommy’s waist, trying to pull Tommy in, trying to get some friction on his aching dick. It feels like Tommy’s warm skin is touching every part of his body and it’s not enough. He wants pressure. He wants more.

“Tommy,” he says. He can’t make himself open his eyes. All this sensation is already too much, without having to look at Tommy’s actual physical body here, doing these things to Lovett and acting like he likes it. “Tommy, Tommy. Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” murmurs Tommy, his voice cracking a little bit on the lower register in the way Lovett normally finds adorable but right now is unspeakably hot. He kisses Lovett’s eyelids, his temples, strokes the soft skin on the inside of Lovett’s elbow with his thumb. Everything feels really, really good and it makes Lovett want to cry for some reason. It’s stupid and sappy.

“I want–” starts Lovett. He frowns in frustration about how his voice sounds so whiny and sulky, but Tommy makes an mmm-hmmm Active Listening sound, so Lovett blurts –

“I really really want you to fuck me, but I really didn’t think this through because I made you come already. I really wanted you to come though. I guess I’m just a really unselfish lover.”

“Thanks for making me come,” says Tommy. There’s a smile in his voice. “I appreciate it. Want me to fuck you with my hands?”

“Yes?” says Lovett. His voice makes it sound like a question but it’s not a question. “Yes. You’re a really good problem solver, Tommy Vietor.”

“Thanks,” says Tommy again, softly. He kisses Lovett’s shoulder and his chest, lets go of Lovett’s arms. Lovett makes an involuntary sound. He didn’t want that to happen.

“I’m gonna go get something, okay,” says Tommy softly. “Then I’m gonna make you feel good. I promise.”

“I believe you,” says Lovett. He puts both hands over his face and listens to Tommy get up, look around through his suitcase, get back on the bed.

“Hey,” says Tommy. He touches Lovett’s cheek. “Can you look at me for a second?”

Lovett peeks through his fingers. Tommy’s face is so kind, and so handsome, and is looking at Lovett with such fondness. He strokes the side of Lovett’s face. He’s still wearing his stupid fucking MVMT watch.

“Want me to turn the light off?” Tommy asks.

Lovett clears his throat. “You can,” he says. “If that will make it easier.”

Tommy’s forehead creases a little. “I don’t need anything to be made easier,” he says. “It just seems like you don’t want to look at me right now. That’s okay, I can turn the light off.”

“No,” says Lovett. “Sorry. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” says Tommy. He shifts down, kisses the side of Lovett’s knee, gently moves his legs apart so he can get between them. He opens up a small (travel sized? Lovett wonders briefly) container of lube. He warms the lube up on his hands, starts just by touching Lovett gently, jerking him off for a few tantalizing seconds and then sliding his fingers down. Just stroking, not pressing. Lovett arches his back, makes a little sound.

“Tell me-” says Tommy. His face looks very serious and focused. “Tell me to slow down, speed up, whatever. Just tell me.”

He is relentlessly slow and gentle, opening and opening Lovett until Lovett’s whole body just feels like one big ache to have Tommy inside him. Lovett has his arm thrown over his face and he’s biting the soft inside of his upper arm to keep himself from saying insane things, but once Tommy’s sliding two fingers inside him, somehow knowing just the right rhythm, knowing just when to crook his fingers and press, Lovett gives up and starts begging. 

“Please, please, please, please,” he babbles. “Tommy – god, fuck, please, your hands. Tommy. Jesus Christ -”

“More?” asks Tommy softly.

“Yes! Yes more,” Lovett chokes out. “Jesus. I wish-”

“Wish what?”

Lovett reaches down and makes incoherent grabby hands towards Tommy’s bare freckly shoulders. “Can you like get up here?” he babbles. “I really want you to be on top of me.”

“I can do that, kind of,” says Tommy, and somehow he gently shifts himself and Lovett so that he is leaning up over Lovett, pushing one of Lovett’s legs up over his shoulder and pressing his face into the side of Lovett’s neck. He slides three fingers back into Lovett without warning.

“You’re really- long,” says Lovett, chokes back a sob when Tommy starts fucking him harder, deeper. “God. Tommy.”

He wants to touch his dick but he doesn’t want to come. He doesn’t want this to end. It feels so fucking good and it’s not like it’ll ever happen again. He lets his breath out in a sob, turns his head to find Tommy’s mouth. Tommy kisses him and fucks him and somehow knows exactly when he’s this close to coming, even without a hand on his dick, and slows down cruelly, sweetly - just waits with his fingers inside Lovett until Lovett calms down and stops cursing.

“I didn’t tell you to do that,” gasps Lovett.

“Just trust me,” says Tommy.

“I do, I trust you,” says Lovett, not really thinking, just mimicking, but Tommy makes a pleased soft sound.

“You like that, huh,” says Lovett, lucid enough even in this overwhelming haze of pleasure to spot a mockable weakness of Tommy’s. “That’s like – that really revs your motor, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up,” says Tommy, laughing.

“Oh, Tommy Vietor, I trust you,” says Lovett breathlessly. “I trust you soooo much. I trust you with decisions about national security that require – fuck – that require the most skillful diplomatic acumen! I trust you to keep the deepest secrets of the American government while still upholding the constitution!”

Tommy is laughing hard, but he’s also fucking Lovett again, long steady strokes of his fingers that make Lovett bite his lip.

“That’s right,” Lovett manages to say smugly. “Show me what’s what. Show me who’s boss around here.”

“You’re the boss, Lovett,” says Tommy. The laughter’s still in his voice and he sounds hopelessly fond. “You’re always the boss.”

Lovett opens his mouth to retort but Tommy curls his fingers and it gets lost. Lovett can’t find many words after that. Tommy fucks him right up to the edge and backs off two more times, until Lovett is crying actual tears, his face pressed to Tommy’s shoulder. When Tommy puts his hand on Lovett’s dick and lets him come, Lovett feels as wrung out as he’s felt in years.

He keeps crying a little for some reason, tears just leaking out of him, hiccuping a bit. He wants to make a joke to show Tommy that it’s okay but his mind is just blank. Tommy gently, gently takes his fingers out of Lovett and carefully rolls Lovett on his side, scoots up behind him and pulls Lovett snugly back against Tommy’s chest. 

Tommy makes soft noises, little reassuring half words, and kisses the crown of Lovett’s head, the slope of his shoulder. It feels really good to be held. Lovett tries not to count the seconds, not to dwell on it. Normally after really intense sex, Lovett can’t help babbling, every train of thought just escaping him into a flood of words that weirds people out, but right now he just feels totally emptied out – of everything, even words. But in a good way. Right now, he doesn’t even feel the grief about Favs’s wedding, or the guilt about the grief. Tommy is gently running his hand up and down Lovett’s side, over his belly and his chest.

“Hey,” Lovett says finally. His voice is creaky. He twists a little to look back at Tommy, and Tommy’s looking at him, steadily.

“Hey,” says Tommy.

Lovett searches around for something to say. He knows he’s made a mistake here, maybe a huge mistake, but he’s sure he can figure out a way to downplay it, to move on. “Thanks,” he says finally, and smiles.

Tommy smiles back, almost reflexively it seems like, and quickly kisses Lovett’s shoulder again like he’s trying to hide his face a little bit. “It’s really late,” he says. “I’m gonna take a shower. You’re welcome to stay here.”

Lovett nods, but after the shower’s running in the hotel bathroom, Lovett gingerly drags himself back into his gross clothes, pours himself another shot of Knob Creek in a paper cup to go, and sneaks back to his own room to scroll through Twitter in a fugue of anxiety, until he physically can’t stay awake any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> i barf podsa feelings into the void at amazonplanet on tumblr!


End file.
